


Masterpiece

by empress_ofdesire



Category: Marriage Story (2019)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dom!Charlie, F/M, Fingering, Light Dom/sub, Public Hand Jobs, Reader-Insert, Semi-Public Sex, Sex in a museum!, sub!Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24065011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empress_ofdesire/pseuds/empress_ofdesire
Summary: Charlie surprises you at your job: tour guide at an art museum. But he wants to admire more than just the art.
Relationships: Charlie Barber/Reader, Charlie Barber/You
Kudos: 33





	Masterpiece

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing a full length smutty fic so please go easy on me! As a student of art history, I have fantasized about Charlie acting absolutely filthy with me in a museum since I first laid eyes on that elegant man. Also apologies if the set up is too long, I couldn't resist including some actual art knowledge. Happy reading!

“I’d like to conclude our tour with this piece here.” You step backwards and gesture toward the statue in the corner next to you, in true tour guide fashion. “We call this one a seated muse, mainly because it’s a partially nude woman.” A few soft chuckles from your group. “Although we don’t know who exactly crafted her, we do know where exactly she came from. Like many of the other statues we’ve seen today, this is a Roman copy of an ancient Greek sculpture. We think that this muse was part of a larger group of statues depicting a mythical musical contest.” 

You gave this speech at least ten times a week, but you never got tired of it. The statues in this gallery had become like old friends to you as you spent your days telling their stories to eager listeners. Some days you even found yourself just sitting and admiring them, content to be among the spirits of a long ago world. 

“The muses were considered the epitome of natural beauty and the craftsmen that carved these statues took great pains to capture that beauty.” You pause, letting that hang in the room. “Now I’m afraid that’s all I have for you today, but I’ll be in the gallery for a bit longer so feel free to come and ask me any questions that might arise. Of course I can’t guarantee I’ll have an answer, since our lovely muses are so often shrouded in mystery, but hey, I’d love to have a chat. Thank you!” You smile to yourself, pleased to have completed yet another tour, as the group gives you a short round of applause. 

When no one steps forward with questions, you turn fully to the statue as the group disperses, taking a few moments to enjoy her. You’re so caught up in the muse in fact, that the soft voice in your ear startles you. 

“Do you always speak so dramatically or is that just for the tourists?” Charlie bites back a laugh as your face dissolves from surprise to feigned annoyance. 

“Do you always have to sneak up on me when I’m at work?” You retort, rolling your eyes as he places a soft kiss on your cheek. “Wait, were you on the whole tour?” 

This time Charlie can’t stop his laugh as he shakes his head. “Just the last few statues.” He loves how absorbed you could become in your work. And he loves watching you guide wide eyed tourists around the hall of sculptures as you pour your knowledge out to them. 

You nod and turn back to the muse, tilting to your head as you examine her. “What do you think of her?” 

Charlie steps in closer behind you, practically enveloping you against his tall form. He wraps his arms around your middle and leans his head down onto your left shoulder.

“She reminds me of you.” He says quietly. His breath is warm in your ear and the rumble of his soft baritone makes you weak in the knees.

“Really? We look nothing alike!” You try to turn around so you can get Charlie’s damned voice out of your ear, but he tightens his grip on you, sliding his hands down so that one rests on each of your hip bones. 

“You’re not twins, no, but you called her the epitome of natural beauty.” You inadvertently lick your lips as Charlie presses a long slow kiss to the side of your neck. “If that’s not you, then I don’t know what is, babygirl.” 

You inhale sharply to keep from moaning at one of your favorite pet names he has for you. This is so unprofessional, you’re technically on the clock right now. But that had never stopped Charlie before. As you cast your eyes around the gallery, praying silently that none of your coworkers are nearby, you lean fully into Charlie’s body. He’s strong and solid behind you, and you can already feel his quickly hardening length against your ass. You feel wetness start to pool between your legs. 

“They used to worship statues like this right?” Charlie asks at a normal volume, straightening up but still keeping you close to him. For a moment, all you can do is nod because he has brought his hands up to trace lightly along your shoulders and the feeling gives you shivers.

“Sure, many ancient humans used to view sculptures as vessels for the divine.” Speaking about art tends to come naturally to you, but right now you feel your heart pounding in two places. Charlie’s hands are still dancing along your shoulders, gracing over your collarbones. Two can play at this game. You shift subtly.

Charlie hums slightly at the feel of your ass rubbing against him. His hands trail down from your shoulders along your curves, landing back at your hips. His voice is deadly in your ear, “I’d like to worship your body like a statue.”

You fight back another moan at his words, trying to concentrate on the art in front of you instead of how near to your pelvis his hands are drifting. If anyone were to look closely at you two for more than a second they’d be able to see. You thank whatever fates exist in the universe that you’d chosen today to wear a wrap skirt. Charlie’s hand slips easily through the layered fabric and he rests it on your sex. You pull your blazer around you to further obscure the absolute obscenity you know is about to occur.

“I wish I could take you right here. In front of this statue. You belong here. You’re a work of art.” Charlie breathes into your ear, his whole palm covering your mound in a possessive sort of way. “Touch every inch of your beautiful body while you look at hers. You’re my little masterpiece.”

A sigh escapes your lips and you try to rub against him to create a little friction. To ease your need just a tiny bit. Damn his way with words. 

“Oh, you’d like that?” He teases, “Yeah, beautiful little whore would love for me to touch her right where anybody could see. Well it’s your lucky day, babygirl.” 

And that’s as much warning as you get. In one swift move, Charlie slides your panties to the side and slips a single finger between your folds. You cough in an attempt to stifle the pathetic little mewl that you let out. 

“You’re so wet already, beautiful.” Charlie coos, slowly beginning to pump his finger in and out of you. 

“You have that effect on me.” You gasp as Charlie crooks his finger and stops moving. “Sir.” You add, hoping that’s what he was waiting for. 

It is. He hums in acknowledgement and eases another finger into you. God his hands are so big, just two fingers feels like he’s stretching you. His other hand is delicately trailing the curves of your body, from your hips to your shoulders and back again. You lean as close as you can to his form and slowly reach an arm behind you toward his slacks. His hand moves from your shoulder to your wrist in an instant. 

“Oh no, no, no, beautiful,” He whispers, guiding your arm back to your side. His fingers still pushing in and out of your wetness. “I just want you like this.” He lowers his voice even more to make sure only you hear, “I just want to worship your pretty little cunt like the work of art that it is.” 

That’s it. You melt fully into his touch, feeling your knees start to shake. A quiet “Fuck, Charlie.” slips from your throat as you try to keep yourself upright. The muse is blurring in and out of focus. 

“That’s right, beautiful,” Charlie’s thumb grazes your clit and you bite your lip, your eyes rolling back into your head. “Ah-ah, keep those eyes open, beautiful, we wouldn’t want anyone to get suspicious. Just keep looking at this gorgeous statue.” Somehow you manage to pry your eyelids apart and bring the sculpture back into your field of vision. “That’s a good girl.”

Charlie’s fingers are pumping into you even faster now, and his thumb is lavishing your clit with attention. You can’t believe you’re doing this. You could be fired. You both could probably be arrested. The thought fills you with a dangerous little thrill and you feel yourself smile. Only Charlie could do this to you. 

“Enjoying this, beautiful?” He nips at your earlobe. “I certainly am.”

“Yes, sir, I love your fingers in me.” You murmur almost lazily. “Thank -fuck- thank you, sir.” 

Charlie lets himself smile, since you can’t see his face. You’re sex-drunk over him and he loves it. You can’t even talk about your art while he’s doing this to you. Now that’s an accomplishment. Having you wrapped around his finger, literally. “You’re very welcome, beautiful.” 

You feel yourself clench at his words. You’re getting close, and he knows it. His fingers are plunging deep into you while his thumb vigorously strokes your swollen nub. 

“Ch-Charlie?” Your breathing is coming at faster intervals and you hope you can get your words out. 

“Yes, beautiful?” He’s supporting most of your body weight now with you leaning back into him. 

“Fuck I’m gonna - can I - fuck - please.” Between trying to keep quiet and focusing your gaze straight ahead, you can’t quite form the sentence that he usually requires of you. Charlie’s hot breath tickles your ear as he chuckles slightly. 

“Cum, beautiful,” he purrs, “cum for me now.” 

And you do. You practically explode on his fingers. You clamp a hand over your mouth as you lean your full weight into his hulking form. He shushes you gently, swaying both your bodies a bit to disguise the fact that you’re spasming through your orgasm. To someone standing behind, the two of you might simply be romantically slow dancing. You pant behind your hand, attempting to catch your breath. Your vision is spotty as Charlie eases his fingers out of you and shifts your panties back in place. In an incredibly smooth motion, he wipes his hand on the inside of your skirt as he brings it out. Then there’s a kiss on your cheek, a soft “Come home quick tonight, beautiful.” And he’s striding across the sculpture hall away from you. As if nothing happened.   
\---  
It’s only when you’re sipping your afternoon coffee in the break room that it hits you. Shit. Shit shit shit shit. 

You forgot to thank him before he left.


End file.
